


Dopamine

by SophieGraceJ



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: After the Revolution/Uprising, F/M, Freedom, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 08:18:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieGraceJ/pseuds/SophieGraceJ
Summary: He liked the sound of you moaning his name.And they said androids were just plastic …





	Dopamine

DETROIT 2040 

“Hey, for a nosey parker -- Private Investigator sorry… you ain’t too bad. Maybe we could uh – work together another time. You know your shit.” 

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.” You respond, grasping the straw of your soda between your teeth, chewing it mindlessly. Hank chuckles, taking a bite out of his burger. 

You mumble after a short silence, eyes rising to the hazy Detroit sky, “I’m kidding, of course I’d love to. You two make for pretty good company, plus, you don’t get cases like this in Canada.”

You watch Connor crack the tiniest of smiles, and it does something to you, it opens something within you that causes a smile of your own to form. Hank notices too, “Yeah. I’m certain Connor here would love that. He may be a cold asshole sometimes, but he’s got a heart in there somewhere. He likes you, don’t you Connor?” 

You turn to him, his brown eyes flickering from Hank to you for a moment, his smile growing wider. “Yes. I do … You’re a professional in your field, intelligent, determined and optimistic. We wouldn’t have succeeded our mission if it weren’t for your help.” 

You bow your head, experiencing an embarrassment from the compliment, not because it was from him, but because it burned your face and you knew it was obvious. “Thanks … That, that actually means a lot to me. Back home, I-uh, I never did do much.” You laughed, nipping at your burger. 

“Whaddya mean? Thought you were high up in the PI social class?” The lieutenant questions, taking a sip from his passion fruit drink or whatever the hell it is. 

His question although not intentional reminds you of the truth, and it gets you down like always, “No, not really. That’s my Dad. I’ve been working for him ever since I got into the business, he runs one of the top agencies in Ontario. The only reason I’m here is because I was the one to come across the good old serial killer by accident as you already know.” You explain, picking out the slices of tomato. 

“Right … I get ya. What’s it like in Canada by the way? I’ve noticed not many androids are there, must be like heaven.” Hank winks at Connor. 

“I guess there isn’t many androids, a few though. Trying to get away from the conflict … I remember seeing on tv the revolution, it was--it was inspiring to say the least. I’m glad it happened.” You confess, purposefully looking to Connor who nods in agreement, “I know it’s not my place, especially since I didn’t see it in person, but … your kind were treated wrongly – I um, I think it’s great that you’ve been allowed freedom, and I’m glad that you’re both here, you’re both good guys, … and I-um, I’m also glad I’m mostly Canadian.” 

“Jesus … Fucking Canadians.” 

Your laughter bubbles after that, boiling to a degree that you have to stop eating, “Hey! I’m not completely Canadian! Sure, I like poutine and hockey but I’ve got a bit of United States blood in me! My Mom’s from here, so I’m just as … or well … maybe nearly just as much as an American as the both of you!” 

If it weren’t for the way Connor analysed you, you’re sure your manic laughter would have continued, if not worsened by the way Hank dipped his face into his palms, shaking his head. 

Connor … Your laugh levelled down, only short intervals of chuckles were ongoing, your breathing loud and deep… He watched you with a gleam in his eyes, he watched you like you were an exotic creature, he was curious of you, and it only warmed the blush further that rested on your cheeks.

You grinned at him, and he just watched … It should have been uncomfortable, but it-it wasn’t. There was something intimate about it… 

And then it was manipulated. Your laughter returning. 

“What’s poutine?” Connor had the nerve to ask.

But still, even though his lack of knowledge of the heavenly food icon of your home country dampened the mood, you were beyond exhilarated to let him chaperone you back to your hotel… 

\--------

“You didn’t have to do this Connor … But thank you, it’s very sweet of you.” You smile, unlocking the door with your fingerprint, the door slides open and the warmth of the heater attacks your cold skin. 

You could get used to this. 

“It’s no problem. I wanted to make sure you got back safely.” He reassured, standing behind you so casually, hair a little messier than usual, messy hair you wanted to strand your fingers through … What would it feel like? 

Damn it… 

“You can come in if you’d like, or?” You attempt to sound laidback, far form excited, but the smile on his face only sparks a fire of anticipation in you as he nods his head, 

“I’d like that.” 

Damn it, damn it… 

The tv’s on before you know it, and your coat laid out on the bed, your hands going to work on the coffee machine all hotel rooms must have, it’s advanced, a little too advanced, and it causes you to be somehow more thankful for Connors presence. 

He’s handing you your coffee before you know it, and you can’t help but feel a bite of shame and guilt even through the adrenaline of him being with you, “Thanks Connor, as you can tell, I’m no tech expert, I think Hank’s better than me when it comes to technology and that’s saying something.” 

You laugh at your own joke. Your back to Connor as you clean up the room, wary and conscious of what he might think of the empty chocolate wrappers decorating the carpet and draws … 

“You enjoy eating chocolate?” He asks in that monotonous tone of his, it’s endearing though. 

“Yeah, I’m what you would call a chocoholic. I eat too much of it probably.” 

“I’ve noticed the majority of humans do eat a lot of chocolate, Hank included.” 

You laugh again at his comment, discarding the wrappers in the bin allocated to your room, eyes creeping to where he stands … just, watching you with a smile. 

How could something- someone referred to as just a robot, just plastic be so human? 

In fact, you found him all the more beautiful because he wasn’t human. There was something stunning about him, eerie yet magical to witness. 

“Well, chocolate is one of the greatest things to have been found and created I suppose, but I am biased when I say that. From what I’ve read, uh, the chemical properties and I guess just the taste and texture of chocolate releases dopamine in your brain, makes you feel good.” You explained rather terribly, but you had a feeling he already knew this information, especially when his interest seemed to peak, sitting down on your bed, hands in his lap. 

“Dopamine. A neurotransmitter, a chemical in the human brain, your brain. It holds a major role in reward-motivated behaviour. Generally speaking, it’s released when you do something you enjoy. That’s why humans take drugs, drink alcohol, have sex, and in your case, eat chocolate.” His statement earns a large grin from you, and you can’t help but nod in agreement. 

“Yeah. I guess so. I can’t say the same for the first two activities though. I don’t really drink, and I’ve never taken drugs --”

“What about the third activity?” 

You freeze in place, eyebrows raised. 

Certain your face is close to melting, you laugh awkwardly, stuttering before you can even get a proper sentence out, yet he just sits … on your bed … watching patiently. 

“I-uh, I’m not really sure. I’m not the person to ask about that … I’ve don’t really have much experience with that… Haven’t um, taken part in that activity for a while now.” You spew out, quickly distracting yourself with the hot coffee in your hand, only to burn your tongue.

And before you can proclaim the horrific pain of burning your tongue, Connor is by your side, stealing away the mug from your hands. 

His brown, sweet eyes focused solely on you as he peels away a loose strand of hair from your eyes, “Do you enjoy my presence?” 

You gulp hesitantly, remaining still as his cooler hand brushes by your cheekbone, fingers exploring your face … 

“Yeah … I do. Do you enjoy mine?” 

He nods, stepping forward, eyes falling to your lips … 

They part of course, you act on instinct, animalistic instinct and flutter your eyes closed as your nose comes into contact with his ever so gently, his mouth, that feels soft and human, moulds with yours. 

You place your hands on his chest, cuddling into him as he slips his tongue in … And it’s the first exhibition of his nature, his mouth tasting of something synthetic, clinical, unnatural … but good. 

His hands come to rest behind your neck, and he doesn’t breathe, not like you. 

Not like your breathing that is overwhelming, far from elegant and precise like his is … It’s so calm and filtered. 

You weren’t thinking straight, too much dopamine maybe … 

You begin pulling your clothes off, first the sweater then the jeans and he just … he just sat back down on the bed and watched with that same curiousness and analytical gaze. 

Soon you’re standing in only your underwear, your chest bare to him and your self-consciousness just as bare… 

“I-uh … this isn’t too much is it?” You ask softly, unsure of what this did to him…

Did he feel attraction and arousal like humans? Did his body react the same way? 

You found out though, by the way his eyes hovered by your breasts for a lingering time, his lips thinning and legs subconsciously spreading apart by the knees, his hands reclining behind him. 

“No … It’s not. You are … you are very pretty.” He whispers, and you urge yourself to step closer to him, testing the limits of his reception to all this. 

You smile lightly, drawing nearer and nearer to him, careful to not startle or push too far on his temperament. 

“How do you feel?” You question, finding your way to his lap, in between his legs, his eyes wandering the curves and shape of your body, his hands tempted, testing their own limits as they met with your stomach, caressing your skin. 

“I feel … I feel, good.” He mutters, eyes meeting yours finally, “How do you feel?” 

You decline toward him, forcing him to lie down against the mattress, “A lot of dopamine is happening in my brain right now.” You laugh quietly, earning a smile from him, his soft lips. 

His hands on your hips, encouraging you to rely on his body, to lean into him … Your own hands by either side of his head, thighs by either side of his legs. 

And he rises into you, as you start moving … You can feel him… He’s so human yet so perfectly different to human. 

Your fingers dig into blankets, never losing eye contact with Connor, his hands stabilising you by the waist, watching and watching as if only that could create a replica of something clouding and perverting his vision. 

His program not existent. 

Just you and him … 

“Can I?” He interrupts, flipping you over so that you’re on your back, eyes up on the ceiling, him above you. 

You don’t have to speak…he reads from your panting mouth, your dilated pupils, your warm skin and inability to stop moving and curling your toes. 

You stay silent, allowing him freedom … Freedom to touch your breasts, to place ghostly kisses on your skin. Eyes never leaving yours … Never once leaving yours… 

It was eerie yet beautiful. 

His zip undone … 

Your underwear down by your ankles … 

Eyes on you… 

He was so human … 

And when he pushed inside, confused but so certain of what he was doing and what he was feeling … you confronted your own barrier of anxiety, smiling … Encouraging him to push harder, and he did. 

His perfect face distorting in pleasure, his hands supporting him above you, your hips rising to meet his every thrust, the glowing blue by his forehead hypnotising … no, not blue anymore … 

He thrusted in and out, and his breathing barely changed, yet his exterior was disintegrating, no longer was he perfect and collected… 

You had to grasp onto him, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress and nearly slipping from the bed altogether on multiple occasions … and oh, you began to worry if the next-door occupants would complain. 

He didn’t make a sound … but what he was doing made immense sound, the head of the bed colliding with the wall … 

You were forcefully shaking under him, and you couldn’t keep the stuttering moans from falling… 

And he watched you, analysing as best he could as the bed shook violently with the both of you, he couldn’t stop… 

“Do that again … Please…” He mumbled in your ear, and for a moment you didn’t know what he meant …

He liked the sound of you moaning his name … 

And they said androids were just plastic … 

“Connor… Connor … Connor…”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading and I hope you all liked this one-shot for Connor!
> 
> I recently finished Detroit: Become Human and holy mother of Jesus! The game is beyond amazing! SO emotionally investing and all the characters are just so beautiful and well-written! The three storylines with Kara, Markus, and Connor just felt so epic yet personal and intimate. Definitely need a box of tissues nearby too!  
> One of the greatest games I've played, and I can't wait to play it again!


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